


If A Son Could Get Me You

by aurics



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun is a kindergarten teacher, and Luhan's son happens to be in his class. Sehun, unfortunately, does not teach romance classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If A Son Could Get Me You

**Author's Note:**

> for niyaowo @ lj because ilh

One of the hardest things Sehun has to do as a kindergarten teacher, he realises, would be to tolerate every kid’s tantrum on the first day of school. It’s something Sehun has learnt to deal with with each passing year, but that doesn’t mean it gets any better when yet another child hysterically pounds on the door, screaming to be let out.

It does get easier, though, when there is one less child who cries. And today Sehun thinks God must be on his side because the first student to shyly walk up to him is awfully quiet, well-mannered hands tucked behind his back and his head bowed low, only peeking up to occasionally study Sehun’s face.

“Hi there! Now aren’t you a good boy; no tears and uniform neatly put together.” He kneels in front of the boy’s face to smile at him. “What’s your name?”

The boy bites his bottom lip, wide eyes cautious and hesitant. “Ziyu…”

“Well, Ziyu,” Sehun peers around, noticing the empty hallway. “Did…someone drop you off?”

“I’m here!” Someone looking absolutely frantic runs up to Sehun, scarf messily thrown around his neck and an obnoxiously large coaster in one hand. “Ziyu! You mustn’t run off like that! You don’t do that in a car park, alright, you must stick with Daddy.”

He flashes a disarmingly apologetic smile at Sehun, who consequently struggles to keep his composure. _Professionalism, Oh Sehun, Professionalism. “_ Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” Sehun realises he’s still kneeling on the floor, and quickly gets up on to his feet, brushing down his clothes in a last-minute attempt at looking presentable. “I’m Oh Sehun, Ziyu’s homeroom teacher for this year. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Luhan, I’m Luhan.” He proceeds to take Sehun’s hand and shakes it, warm and firm. “I’m Ziyu’s father.”

An awkward silence follows, with Sehun trying hard not to stare at Luhan’s face too much because although Luhan looks like he had barely passed his second year of college, there is an aura of authority that demands respect; an aura of protectiveness around him that Sehun feels oddly attracted to. The way he holds Ziyu’s hand, firm enough to keep him still but not too much that it would hurt, speaks of responsibility and experience.

“So, uh, where are the other students?”

Knocked out of his daydream, Sehun fumbles with his sleeve to check the time. “It’s…quite early. Classes don’t start until another hour. Have you read the timetable wrong, perhaps?”

“Oh. I think I might have.” Luhan winces. “But it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, because I have to leave for work, like, right now.”

With his two hands clasped together, Luhan sends an almost pleading look to Sehun. “Can Ziyu please stay? He’s not very fussy – he’ll stay put if you give him something to do. Could you maybe –“

“Don’t worry, it’s no problem,” Sehun grins, already stepping forward to help Ziyu with his lunchbox and backpack. “It’s a pleasure, really. Not much preparation to do, I’m glad I’ll have company.”

The relieved smile Luhan gives Sehun momentarily sends his brain into blackout. “Thank you so much. I’ll pick him up on time, don’t worry.”

Luhan bends down and offers a cheek to his son. “Ziyu, give daddy a kiss first. There we go. Be good okay? Remember what I told you last night.” Luhan fixes the collar of Ziyu’s uniform. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Ziyu waves. Luhan waves back, standing up to bow to Sehun with a last rushed _thank you!_ and disappearing out the door. For a while, Sehun doesn’t say anything, partly because he needs to calm down (too many smiles directed at him wasn’t a good thing) and partly because he’s checking whether Ziyu will suddenly burst into tears or not.

When he decides that Ziyu is fine, he says, “So, do you want a tour around your new classroom?”

 

-

 

True to his words, Luhan picks Ziyu up dead on time every end of school day; 3pm sharp. As soon as Sehun had helped each student pack their bags and tidy up their crayons, Ziyu would already be out the door, with a hand in Luhan’s and an occasional hair ruffle. Although disappointing, Sehun secretly thinks it’s endearing that Luhan tries his best to find time for his son in the middle of his busy work hours.

Sehun finds that early mornings are slowly becoming the highlight of his days. Early mornings mean Luhan rushing in to drop Ziyu off and Sehun having the opportunity to capture the smile on his face and tuck it into the back of his mind, the memory of Luhan’s effortless smiles fueling him for the day. At first, Luhan only stays for a couple of minutes – making sure Ziyu has everything he needs for his lessons and casually making remarks about the impeccable state Sehun keeps the classroom in (it isn’t an attempt to impress, he swears). But then Luhan starts spending ten, twenty, thirty minutes at a time; lost in conversation and the easy enjoyment of Sehun’s company and his coffee, even though Luhan’s already got his own.

Sehun no longer finds the spaces between their speeches awkward, instead reveling in the comfortable silence as he watches Ziyu complain that he’s still sleepy, whining that he wants to go back to bed.

“What did daddy tell you, Ziyu?” Luhan lifts him up, cradling him in his lap. “Don’t be fussy in school – you don’t want to be giving teacher Oh a hard time, do you?”

Truth be told, Ziyu turns into an extremely chatty boy when he’s fully awake. Sehun can see that he’s starting to get a lot more comfortable around him  – days of one-way conversations and candy bribery finally paid off – in the way that he wouldn’t stop talking about anything that comes to mind. And Sehun isn’t even sure if half the things he says are supposed to be told.

“Teacher Oh, you know what my daddy said?” Ziyu’s face doesn’t leave the picture he’s colouring on.

“Hmm? What did he say?”

“He told me that he’s – teacher! Colour inside the lines!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Sehun readjusts the red crayon in his hand, trying his best to follow the flimsy details of the unfortunate elf’s hair.

“Well, daddy told me he’s always late to work now because he forgets about the time when he talks to you.”

“Oh,” Sehun frowns. “Then can you tell him I’m very sorry for keeping him back for me?”

“I think it’s okay though,” Ziyu grabs the red crayon from Sehun’s hand cheekily. “Because he says he likes it.”

 

-

 

Sehun likes listening to Luhan talk about everything and anything – the weather, clothes, sports (Luhan had gasped out loud when Sehun admitted he does not keep up with the Premier League) and even sometimes thinly-veiled critiques about Korean culinary. But he likes it more when Luhan talks about himself – the little things Sehun has the privilege of knowing, maybe even the satisfaction of being the only one whom Luhan tells these things to.

“I remember when I first came here, all the way from China.”

Luhan’s fingers curl unconsciously around steaming mugs, and all Sehun wants to do is lace his fingers between them.

“Everything was so new to me; different, but wonderful. There were many opportunities I could never have had if I stayed. Like adopting Ziyu.”

Sehun raises an eyebrow, to which Luhan waves off.

“Don’t worry. Ziyu’s not a stupid boy, and I’m not one to cover things up. I adopted him at an orphanage I was volunteering in a few years ago. I can’t tell you exactly why, or how I became so attached to him, but,” Luhan’s eyes travel to Ziyu, who’s nodding off in the beanbag corner. “He’s my whole world now.”

“I get what you mean,” Sehun says. “Teaching is a tiring job, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of seeing kids smile, you know?”

Lost in his own thoughts, Luhan nods absently.

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Luhan casually asks after a moment of silence. He presses further when Sehun shakes his head. “Boyfriend?”

“Nope. No one.”

“Me too.”

They lapse back into silence, unsaid words hanging in the air. Then, as if on cue, Luhan pushes his sleeve back, checks his watch, and says: “I’ve got to go now, might be late otherwise.”

“Of course,” Sehun replies. He stands to clear up and see Luhan out when he feels something warm and soft on his cheek – something that feels a lot like a pair of lips. He turns, barely hiding his surprise when he sees Luhan’s reddening face.

“See you around.”

In the end, Sehun’s too shocked to see him out the door.

 

 

-

 

Luhan gapes at Ziyu who’s dragging something – some _one_ – with much difficulty behind him across the car park. This was not what Luhan had in mind when Ziyu said he had ‘left something behind in class’.

“Ziyu!” He half-screams, half-wails. “Why are you dragging Teacher Oh with you?”

“I told him you invited him out for lunch!” Ziyu beams, ignoring the obvious drop of his dad’s jaw. “Daddy said he’d have some free time today, right?”

“Um, Ziyu,” Sehun gently removes his arm from the vice-like grip of the toddler. “It was very nice of you, but apparently your dad didn’t know about the plan –“

“He does now!” Oblivious to Sehun’s discomfort, he drags him to the car.

Luhan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Ziyu, next time, tell me before you make _your own plans,_ alright?”

“So he can come with us?”

Luhan unlocks the car, and throws open the passenger seat. “Yeah, yeah he can.”

 

-

 

Ziyu chatters non-stop while Luhan tries to let some steam off, unconcerned about the death grip his father’s got on the steering wheel, eyes glaring straight ahead as if by burning a hole in the glass the atmosphere would somehow lighten itself up.

Soon, Ziyu gets tired of talking and promptly falls asleep in the backseat. The grip on the steering wheel has loosened, and the creases between Luhan’s eyebrows have faded. Sehun clears his throat.

“I’m…sorry. I honestly had no idea, I mean. Look, you can drop me off at the next bus stop and –“

“It’s fine, really.”

Luhan runs a hand through his hair, disentangling the strands. Sehun thinks his hair looks better like that: falling into his face instead of brushed out of it. His features look softer, the lines of his jaw less defined and there’s a beauty behind the subtlety. “I just don’tknow what to do, because I was planning on doing some boring dad stuff. Wouldn’t be your cup of tea, would they?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Sehun refutes it all the same. “I’m a kindergarten teacher. Maybe they would.”

“Even shopping for children’s clothes?”

“Especially that.”

Luhan gives him a look, and suddenly bursts out laughing. The creases on his face come up again, but this time they don’t pinch his skin inwards in annoyance. Flashing teeth and scrunched up eyes – Sehun thinks Luhan looks the best like this; loose and carefree. Sehun wishes he’d do it again.

“Really?” Luhan throws a lopsided smile at him, and it takes a few seconds for Sehun to realise he’d voiced his thoughts out loud. Luhan’s laugh only intensifies when Sehun buries his face in his hands.

“Ignore me,” Sehun mumbles.

“I’m starting to like you more by the second, Oh Sehun.”

-

For a father whose son has yet to turn six, Luhan makes a lot of compromises with Ziyu.

“Please, daddy, I want McDonald’s today!”

“That’s unhealthy! Don’t you want some salad instead?”

“That’s what we always have for lunch at home! I’m bored!”

“But they’re good for you!”

Ziyu pouts, sending a pleading look to Sehun.

“Come on, Luhan. Let him eat whatever he wants, he’s just a kid.”

“Doesn’t mean he gets to slack off on his diet,” Luhan huffs.

Sehun lets Ziyu crawl over onto his lap, draping his arms around the little boy and resting his chin on his head. “At least for today?”

As Luhan squints, Sehun can see the cracks he’s made in Luhan’s wall of defense, and he has to stop himself from smirking in satisfaction when Luhan says: “Alright, fine. But choose the burger with lots of vegetables in it, alright? And at least get an orange juice.”

When Ziyu had excitedly run off to queue in line, Sehun flashes two thumbs up at Luhan. “Best dad ever.”

Trying his best to look disgruntled (to no avail, because Sehun can see his smile anyway), Luhan swats his arm. “We’re definitely getting salad next time we eat out.”

Sehun’s taken aback. “Does this mean I’m getting invited to another lunch?”

Luhan doesn’t answer.

 

 

 

 

 

“What do you think of this one, Ziyu?”

From behind a rack of sparkly princess dresses, Ziyu makes a face at the orange and blue tribal print shirt Luhan’s holding up. “Ugh! That’s ugly.”

“It’s the trend,” Luhan rolls his eyes. Sehun watches him move to another row of clothing that Sehun thinks are far too troublesome to dress a five-year-old in. “What about this?”

“Yuck,” Ziyu sticks a tongue out at the vest and plaid shirt assemble Luhan offers, complete with a woolen scarf to match. “I’ll look like a girl.”

With a frown, Luhan regards Ziyu with a serious look. “This is a very manly outfit. Ask teacher Oh,” Luhan turns to Sehun, who’d been caught spacing out. Sehun’s honestly not that concerned about a toddler’s sense of fashion. “Right?”

“Well,” he notices Ziyu’s eyes going wider. “I think it’s a bit _much_ for Ziyu.”

Luhan glares at him, and Sehun puts both his hands up. “Hey, you asked for my opinion.”

“What do _you_ want, Ziyu?”

Ziyu taps a finger on his small chin, looking around the shop until his neck cranes behind him. He skips over to a rack full of an assortment of colourful t-shirts – Ben 10, Little Miss Sunshine, Spongebob, and worst of all, shirts with an obnoxiously large print of _Team Cute!_ across the chest. Luhan’s about ready to puke.

“I want this!” To his horror, Ziyu points to the _Team Cute!_ shirt.

“What? Ziyu, that’s really not very cool.” Luhan makes a face. “It looks cheap.”

“It’s easy to put on,” Ziyu crosses his arms with a frown. “Remember that sweater? The one with the boots? I couldn’t put it through my head.”

Luhan stares at his son blankly. “Which one?”

“The one with lots of colourful diamonds.”

“Oh, that one…” Luhan laughs. “Okay, but I promise this one will fit through your head.”

“But I want this!” Ziyu clings on to the t-shirt, lips forming an indignant pout.

Sehun hovers between the two, not knowing what to do as Luhan squints at a stubborn Ziyu, probably coming up with a plan in his head. Sehun shakes his head. _Like father like son._

“We’ll go with whatever teacher Oh says. How about that?”

Ziyu grins. “Okay!” Plodding over to Sehun, he tugs on the hem of his work clothes. “Teacher Oh, which one do _you_ like better? Mine or daddy’s?”

The look Luhan sends Sehun from behind Ziyu’s back is one that says _you better side with me or you’re dead_. But however much Luhan tries, his threatening face is anything but.

“I think this shirt is the best, no?” Sehun points to the _Team Cute!_ shirt and is rewarded with an ear-splitting shriek and a hug from Ziyu.

“I can’t believe you sided with him,” Luhan huffs when he takes out his credit card, still frowning at the article of clothing in disgust.

“Hey, whatever’s comfortable for the kid.”

“Fashion is an art one must not neglect,” Luhan sighs. “You better side with me next time.”

He’s doing it again – hinting that this, whatever they’re doing, isn’t a one-time thing. Sehun tries not to show his surprise, and hides his burning curiosity underneath a straight-faced façade. But his heart is beating wildly, and he feels oddly elated at the prospect of possibly becoming a part of Ziyu and Luhan’s life.

(Sehun’s stomach is doing that flipping thing again.)

 

-

 

“I like teacher Sehun, daddy.” Ziyu clings to Sehun’s arm when all the other students have gone out of the classroom.

“It’s teacher Oh for you, Ziyu, mind your manners!”

“Can he be my dad too?” Ziyu asks innocently, indifferent to the way Sehun’s whole body freezes up and Luhan’s eyes widen.

Sehun laughs nervously, and says (with a little bit of disappointment edging his voice). “You already have Luhan as your dad, Ziyu.”

“Can’t I have two dads?” He whines, not letting go of Sehun. “I like you a lot, and I know my dad does too.”

“Alright, Ziyu, I think you’ve said enough now.” Luhan stifles Ziyu’s next words with a palm over his mouth. When he looks up, he avoids Sehun’s curious smile.

“Hm?”

“Kids,” Luhan simply says. “They say what they want.”

 

-

 

It’s becoming a routine now. Luhan would wait until Sehun finishes up work in school, taking whatever paperwork needs to be done back home and locking the classroom behind him. Ziyu would ask to sit on his lap in the passenger seat, and Sehun would kindly deny, saying he doesn’t want to get in trouble with the police _but that if Ziyu really wants to sit with him, he can move to the back._ Luhan would put a hand on Sehun’s knee, and insist he stays; sometimes having light-hearted fights over it with Ziyu.

“So is teacher Oh your boyfriend, now?”

The question is so unexpected that Luhan doesn’t notice the light turning red until a panicked Sehun slaps his arm.

“No. He’s just my very close friend.”

Sehun swallows his disappointment, but he expected as much. He didn’t reckon Luhan would spontaneously confess in front of his son. Or anywhere else for that matter.

“Hmm. That’s not good.” From the rearview mirror, Sehun sees the mess of black hair leaning against the window, muttering a little incoherently to himself. “Should…be closer…how to…if he doesn’t…”

“Ziyu,” Luhan says sternly. “I hope you’re not planning something.”

“He’s five.” Sehun deadpans.

“And you have no idea.”

 

It’s becoming a routine as well, that Sehun spends the time from 3PM to approximately 6PM in the company of the two. At first they spend the ‘quality time’ at the mall, killing time in the food court and window-shopping, with Sehun occasionally purchasing something Ziyu probably doesn’t need but makes him happy anyway.  But then Luhan starts bringing Sehun home, with the excuse of Ziyu getting tired easily. Not that Sehun is complaining – at his home, Luhan looks much more at ease; less uptight, more open to what he does daily instead of being stifled in his perfectly polished shoes and unstained tie.

They’re now sitting at the kitchen table, Sehun helping Ziyu complete his homework and Luhan looking over some reports for work.

“That’s not how you spell ‘skating’, Ziyu.”

“I want to go skating,” Ziyu sighs dreamily. “I’ve only tried it once, but I didn’t have the shoes with metal on it. I was just in my trainers.”

Sehun casts a puzzled look in Luhan’s direction. Luhan shrugs.

“Is he always this distracted during class?” Luhan asks, struggling to open a jar of spaghetti sauce.

Sehun takes the jar, twists it open, and hands it back to Luhan. “Yeah. It’s nothing to worry about, though. It means he’s a very creative boy.”

“Is he good in his sports class?” Luhan asks, walking over to the pantry. “My son has to excel in sports, especially football. Tea?”

“Mhmm, he makes a very good goalkeeper. He’s good at Maths, too.” Sehun ruffles Ziyu’s hair. “Yes please.”

“Goalkeeper? Why can’t he be in striker position instead?” The clinking of two mugs can be heard. “And Maths? I was actually pretty weak at that. Never wanted to pursue a career along that line.”

“He’d always pick the goalkeeper position first.” Luhan returns with Sehun’s tea, and he gratefully takes a sip. No sugar, with a tiny hint of milk. Just the way he likes it. “What did you have in mind? For a career, I mean.”

“Hard to believe, but I wanted to be a singer at one point.”

Sehun doesn’t find it hard to believe when he hears Luhan humming a lullaby to a sleepy Ziyu. He finds it hard to put his shoes back on, to check his pockets for his wallet, and to slip out of the house.

When he glances at the clock, Sehun’s startled to see that it is well past 9PM. There’s a lodging feeling in Sehun’s throat.

Time really does fly, and Sehun can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not.

 

-

 

Maybe children have an expiration date to their patience. Maybe it’s one of the blindingly obvious differences between an adult and a child. Most adults need something to test their patience and trigger their anger, whereas a child’s frail frame of emotions will easily fall into the trap of getting riled up.

Sehun didn’t see it coming, and obviously neither did Ziyu’s friends. They’re out in the field playing football again, and Sehun had noticed Ziyu being more competitive than usual. He asked to play the striker role, much to the displeasure of the usual striker.

It’s on the first scoring attempt, while Ziyu is dribbling the ball slowly to the mouth of the goal that a boy no bigger than him tackles Ziyu to the ground carelessly, not knowing where the ball is in the middle of chaos and kicking Ziyu’s shin instead.

Sehun blows the whistle, signaling for the two still tangled on the ground to break apart. “Foul!”

Just then, Ziyu jumps up and pushes the kicker to the ground, who had just gotten to his feet. The boy falls onto his back with a loud thud and – to Sehun’s horror – breaks out into tears.

“Don’t kick Ziyu again!” Ziyu says. On the way back to the middle of the field, though, Ziyu steps onto the boy’s shin. The cries turn into a long scream.

“Ziyu!” Sehun rushes over, hastily pushing back the boy’s sock to inspect for any injuries. He turns to Ziyu angrily, who looks shocked himself. “Ziyu, what was that for?”

“Ziyu – Ziyu didn’t mean to step on his foot, that was an accident.”

“Why did you push him?”

“He kicked Ziyu!” tries Ziyu, but his tone is less agitated now. “If he didn’t kick Ziyu, Ziyu would’ve scored.”

Sehun, in the middle of attending to his student’s sore shin, gapes. Ziyu, who usually has a gentle, harmless and playful front as a goalkeeper, is far more competitive as a striker than he expected.

“But that’s not what you should do, Ziyu.” Sehun gestures for a girl, who comes running to him. “Chaein, can you please take Woonha to the nurse, please?”

“Alright, teacher Oh. But I get extra merits, right?”

“Yes, yes, anything you want.” He turns back to Ziyu, whose fists are still clenched into tight balls. “Ziyu, I think we need to sort this out with the principal.”

Ziyu looks up at him in horror. “Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Ziyu. But rules are rules,” Sehun kneels in front of the little boy, who’s angrily wiping away tears from his eyes. “We’ll just have a word with the principal, alright?”

“Daddy – daddy will be so mad at me,” Behind Ziyu, Sehun can see the students in crowding around in a circle, desperately trying to peek at the scene. Sehun waves a hand. “He told me not to get into trouble because – because I should be the top student in class.”

“Being the top student in class is different from doing something wrong,” Sehun gently brushes strands of flyaway hair from Ziyu’s forehead into obedience. “I know you’re a good student, Ziyu. But I want to teach you responsibility – taking consequences for what you did wrong. Your dad would be more proud of you if you were smart _and_ honest.”

All Sehun wants is to steer his students in the right path, and when Ziyu looks up at him with glassy eyes and his lips pressed into a defiant line, Sehun hopes he’d done the right thing. “Okay. I like you, teacher Oh, so I believe in you.”

“Good boy,” Sehun helps him up, dusting down his clothes. “Your dad will be so impressed.”

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan is not impressed.

First, the Principal had refused to simply talk to Sehun about it, and had demanded to have a one-on-one talk with Ziyu’s parent. Having his phone ring in the middle of a meeting with an important client and having to excuse himself from the office early was not ideal for Luhan.

He was also unimpressed by the significance – or lack thereof – of the whole issue.

“That’s it?” Luhan had coldly remarked after the Principal had gone off on an unnecessary lecture about school violence and how they should be dealt with in school. “You dragged Ziyu out of his class, made me leave from work early and abandon an important meeting because my son pushed his friend?”

“It’s the homeroom teacher’s complaint,” the Principal stutters, taken aback at the biting tone of Luhan’s words.

“Homeroom teacher? Oh Sehun?”

“Y – yes?”

Luhan eyes the nameplate sitting on the oak desk, and turns his burning gaze back to the now recoiling principal. “Listen, Mr Kim Junmyeon –“

“Actually…people know me as Suho here.” He tries, continuing when no response is evoked out of Luhan. “You know…because I’m a guardian…and…everything.”

Luhan shakes his head, throwing his hands up in the air. “Whatever. Okay, listen, Mr Principal, I am not having my son getting sent off to the Principal’s office and given a warning letter just because he wanted to win his football match.”

“You’re…missing the point, it’s –“

“All he had to do was say sorry, right? Which he has no qualms about doing. Who decided to make a drama out of this?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s you…” Suho mumbles, and quickly cowers a little more behind his desk.

“Can you repeat that?”

“I advise you to directly talk to his homeroom teacher,” Suho says quickly.

Luhan picks up his bag angrily. “As a matter of fact, I will.”

 

 

 

 

“Oh Sehun!”

The room is nearly empty, save for the two students waiting for their parents, Ziyu munching on a toffee in the corner and Sehun in the middle of tidying up a paint-splattered table. He looks up with a smile.

“Ah, Luhan –“

“What the hell were you thinking?” Luhan waves a piece of paper at Sehun, the words _Warning Letter_ printed neatly on the top.

“Ah, you see,” Sehun puts the cleaning rag down. “During football, Ziyu was accidentally kicked in the shin and he responded by –“

“Yes, yes, I knew that much. I’ve had a half-hour lecture regarding that.”

“And, well, I wanted to teach Ziyu to take responsibility for his mistakes. He’s smart enough to understand that he should.”

Luhan scoffs angrily. “By sending him to the principal for something like this?”

“If that’s the consequence, then yes.”

“He’s five! He just started school!”

“You’re the one who said we shouldn’t let him slack off.”

“ _We_?” The last two kids shout small goodbyes as they’re picked up, which Sehun returns with a quick smile. Luhan continues. “Since when were _you_ a part of this?”

Sehun frowns at the remark. The remark hurt, not because Sehun necessarily disagrees with it, but rather he finds that he’s asking himself the same thing. “I’m his homeroom teacher. I think I have a bit of control over what I teach the kids.”

“Then couldn’t you have covered for him?”

“I’m sorry, I prefer to raise kids with a sense of responsibility.”

“Excuse me?” Luhan gapes in disbelief. “Did you just criticise my parenting?”

“One thing’s for sure,” Sehun doesn’t look up, trying in vain to suppress his frustration. “I wouldn’t go around hanging onto my son’s homeroom teacher just so he can get some special treatment.”

He regrets ever saying the words the second they leave his mouth.

Shock is a funny thing – it seems to freeze time, shrouding the air with heavy silence and tension that no one dares to break. Because once it’s broken, the result will be an explosion.

Sehun finally musters up enough courage to look up, expecting an angry Luhan ready to scream – but instead Luhan looks deflated, and instead of breaking the silence with a bang, he quietly whispers:

“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” Something in the way Luhan’s tone shifts brings an ache to Sehun’s heart, so raw and painful he winces at the feeling. “Is that what you see me as?”

“Luhan –“ he steps forward when Luhan’s tears unconsciously fall onto his cheeks.

“No, look, it’s fine,” He wipes at them angrily, and Sehun can’t help but see the uncanny resemblance between him and his son. “Sorry for wasting your time. Although you really should’ve told me if I was.”

“Look, I didn’t mean –“

“It’s fine.” Luhan stuffs the warning letter into his bag, and calls for Ziyu. “Let’s go home, Ziyu.”

It hits Sehun then that Ziyu had been watching the whole thing, and the guilt strikes him tenfold. He avoids Ziyu’s gaze, opting to nurse the growing pain in his chest as he tries to come up with a quick explanation.

By the time the word _sorry_ sits on the tip of his tongue, Luhan had disappeared out of his sight.

 

-

 

“Is your dad coming, Ziyu?” Sehun nervously asks.

“No.” Ziyu replies shortly. “I don’t think he likes walking to my class anymore.”

Sehun expected as much. He absently nods, chasing away the empty feeling from his mind and heart.

“Teacher, what’s the opposite of love?” Ziyu asks suddenly.

“What? Uh, it would be hate I think?”

“Hmm,” Ziyu sinks into his chair, head in his hands. “Weird.”

“What is?”

“I heard daddy saying he doesn’t love you, but I don’t think he hates you. But it should be one of them, right?”

“Not necessarily. You might just _like_ someone, you know?”

“Won’t make sense,” Ziyu shakes his head. “You’re too special for that, teacher Oh.”

 

-

 

It’s been days and Sehun hasn’t caught the slightest glimpse of Luhan anywhere. Ziyu would drag his own lonely feet into the building of the school in the morning, head down and lips pouting. And the same would happen in the afternoon, only this time everything goes in reverse. Sehun finds it very hard to coax a smile out of him now, no matter how many elf pictures he colours in and candies he hands out to the class. Sehun hates seeing his students’ faces anything short of happy; but even more so when it’s Ziyu.

“Daddy’s been crying a lot.” Ziyu jabs at a particularly messy drawing of a unicorn, all twisted horns and scary eyes. “I don’t like it.”

The image of Luhan crying comes to mind, hiding the tears in his eyes suppressing sobs into mere silent noises into his pillow, thinking Ziyu wouldn’t notice. Sehun swallows the lump forming in his throat, but he can’t get rid of the ache in his chest.

“Have you asked him why he cries?”

Ziyu casts a confused look to Sehun. “I don’t need to. I already know why.” He stands up to clear away the crayons, despite his half-coloured picture. “It’s because of you, teacher.”

 

-

 

It’s hard for Sehun to remember what he used to do after work every day, before he started going on little outings with Luhan and Ziyu. It’s become such a constant in his life that he finds sitting in front of the TV with a pile of handwriting homework he needs to mark incredibly dull and strange. Sehun thinks he must be going crazy. How can he feel uneasy with what he’s supposed to be doing everyday?

All the thinking makes Sehun’s head ache, so he leaves his work half-done and heads to bed.

He doesn’t sleep.

 

-

 

Sehun thinks he must be hallucinating when he sees Luhan’s figure lingering hesitantly in front of the school building. Ziyu had walked to the car park by himself ages ago, so there should be no reason for Luhan to still be there.

It’s only until Luhan had grabbed his wrist midway of closing the classroom door and turned him around that Sehun decides this is, in fact, very real.

“Can we just – end this?”

“End what?”

“ _This_ ,” Luhan waves his arms around in empty air. “Pretending like we don’t care about each other, pretending we don’t see each other differently from the way we see others. Pretending like we’re content being alone, feeling lonely.”

The way that Luhan purses his lips tight right after tells Sehun that it’s not easy for him to say things like this.

“I didn’t start it – you did.”

Luhan stares at him incredulously, and bursts out into laughter that makes Sehun wince. Because it sounds forced and painful, like every sharp intake of breath cuts through his skin.

“I’ve just spilled everything in my head and you – you just,” Luhan sighs, breath stuttering a little. “And now we’re bickering like children.”

Sehun’s not sure if he’s supposed to take that as an insult, but Luhan continues.

“You’re so blunt, Oh Sehun. You’re so blunt and you don’t sugarcoat things, sometimes even to kids – you just tell them things as they are. And you have a principle that you won’t let budge however much someone tries to weasel their way into, and you’re so incredibly hardheaded. But I like that, because then I know that you don’t bullshit like everyone does. Because even when you’re being straightforward, children still love you – because whatever you say is sincere. Because once you love, you won’t change, and it’ll be constant. Because everything you say will be the truth, and that I can believe in you.”

Luhan takes a step forward then, and presses his lips insistently on Sehun’s, whose mind is still spinning, trying in vain to process what Luhan is saying. The warmth leaves his lips and Sehun unconsciously lets out a small whine.

“This is where you kiss me back, stupid.” It’s nice to see Luhan break out of his uptight self, Sehun thinks. To see him act like the kid he can sometimes be.

“Wait, wait. So, I’m forgiven?”

“There was nothing to forgive, really. I think we were just on different pages with things.”

“Wait. Then why did we fight?”

A flick lands on his forehead, and Sehun yelps in pain. “You think too much, Oh Sehun. I like it better when you act on instinct.”

Sehun tries hard not to decode what that means when Luhan kisses him again, because his lips feel so right and so good, and Sehun realises he’d wanted this since day one – since Luhan walked in that early morning, with his ridiculous scarf and perfectly ironed clothes and a dumb grin on his face. Sehun stops his own train of thoughts and kisses back, relishing in the satisfied whimper Luhan lets slip past his mouth. Luhan’s tongue is just about to slip past Sehun’s mouth when a creaking noise and a small gasp breaks the pair apart, jumping away from each other in alarm.

“Oh, sorry daddy, I thought you were lost.” Ziyu’s face is apologetic, but his tone is teasing, almost smug. “Ziyu will leave you and teacher Oh alone then.”

“Kids,” Sehun says when Ziyu had sprinted out of sight, hands resting on the small of Luhan’s back. “They say what they want.”

“Yeah,” Luhan throws an arm around Sehun’s neck, bringing him closer for another kiss. “Yeah, they do.”

“By the way,” Sehun stops Luhan. “I can change you know.”

“How?”

“I don’t usually drink coffee in the morning,” he silences Luhan’s bewildered laugh with a small kiss. “But you obviously do.”

 

 

 

 

“What do I call teacher Oh now?”

Luhan looks up from where he’s fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. He looks over to Sehun, who had offered to drive them back home.

“What do you mean, Ziyu?”

“I mean, you know. Since he’s daddy’s boyfriend now.” Ziyu stands up to whisper between the seats. “Is ‘appa’ okay?”

“Ziyu, put your seatbelt on.” Luhan tries to change the subject.

“You’re going to call him ‘boyfriend’ right? Or honey?”

“Ziyu!” Flabbergasted, Luhan turns in his seat to gape at Ziyu.

Sehun laughs beside him. “I like the sound of ‘honey’. Honey!” Sehun singsongs, nudging Luhan’s arm beside him.

“Oh dear god save me.”

 

-

 

Luhan thinks it’s kind of nice to see Sehun’s belongings slowly becoming a part of his house. They’re little things at first; clothes, toothbrush, his favourite coffee mug and his workbag. Then other things start to pile in; like his collection of Justin Bieber CDs, brochures and coupons from his favourite bubble tea place, his laptop, even his pillows and blanket he brought as an excuse to ‘build a fort with Ziyu’.

“Why don’t you just move in, then?” Luhan rolls his eyes when Sehun comes home from work with two more pairs of shoes. “Since your apartment is half empty by now anyway.”

“Is that an offer or a demand?”

Luhan shrugs. “I’ll take that back if you don’t want to.” He yelps in surprise when Sehun suddenly pulls him into a hug, and he realises how similar Sehun smells to his house now.

“You won’t regret it?”

“Of course not. Never.”

 

-

 

 

“I, Oh Sehun, will lawfully take Luhan as wedded –“

“You’re saying it all wrong, start again!”

Sehun sighs. “I, Oh Sehun, will take Luhan as my woefully –“

“Woefully? Sehun, wake up, we need to practice this.”

But all Sehun does is throw an arm over Luhan’s middle, effectively trapping him while he struggles under the weight.

“Can’t we just get married without, you know, the whole wedding process?” Sehun noses at Luhan’s neck. “I don’t need some stupid stiff paper to tell me I love my husband.”

“You might not, but the law does.” Snuggling himself into Sehun’s embrace, Luhan lifts his head up to kiss Sehun’s temple. “I wish we could, though.”

“Do we get to light up fireworks on our wedding day?” Sehun asks, lacing their fingers together and clinging like he doesn’t want to let go. “Ziyu likes fireworks.”

“Ziyu would probably be asleep by then. Whose brilliant idea was it to hold our wedding on New Year’s Eve?” Luhan taps Sehun’s forehead. “Oh yeah, this idiot here.”

“It’s magical! Starting a new life with the start of a new year – sounds like something out of those Disney movies you watch.”

“Ugh, too much of a romantic,” Luhan sticks his tongue out. “We still haven’t talked to our wedding planner yet. We need to do some planning soon, okay?”

“Well I know something else we could do,” Sehun says, before flipping over and straddling Luhan’s lap, licking his lips mischievously down at Luhan.

Luhan flashes him a shit-eating grin. “Bring it on.” He says before reaching up to capture Sehun’s lips in a kiss.

 


End file.
